3m0t10n
by s3v3n-d34d1135
Summary: The one thing Light had always truly hated about L was, coincidentally, the one thing he had a grudging respect for. L made him feel.


To everyone who saw or reviewed Ki11 me, Ki55 me, I 3 you all, and this is my thank you. Actually, it's cuz I was bored in class, but still. This entire idea was formed from the line, "I know why they grab at each other like that. To _feel_. I wanna feel. I wanna wrap my hands around some innocents neck and feel it crack." Erm... the fics not quite that dark.

I disclaim Death Note, and the quote above.

3m0t10n

The one thing Light had always truly hated about L was, coincidentally, the one thing he had a grudging respect for.

L made him feel.

Granted, it wasn't always feeling something _good_, but still, getting an emotional reaction at all from the perfect mask was... impressive.

The first time they saw each other, Light was curious despite himself.

Who sits like that?

What's wrong with his eyes?

Why is he looking at me?

What is he doing here?

Is he not wearing socks?

He's still looking at me, _why_ is he looking at me?

--

One of the things L liked about Light was the way he could make his eyes flash. He saw it when he was angry, when he laughed, when he was determined, and it was enthralling.

The first time he saw it was the first time they locked eyes, in that sanitary colleseum-like testing room that was beneath them both. The boy looked back, and the second his beautiful molten eyes met his own, L felt frozen.

This boy was special.

This boy was perfect.

This boy deserved everything.

But then it was gone. L could move again. And he looked away.

This boy _was_ special.

This boy _was_ perfect.

This boy was _dangerous._

L did not often feel struck by beauty or presence, no matter what others around him said. If this young man could affect _him_ so much, what was he doing to everyone else around him?

L was fascinated.

This warranted a more in-depth investigation.

--

Next, Light felt resentment. He hadn't resented anyone since his high school teacher had marked him down for giving the _right_ answer as opposed to the one he was supposed to give. But how could this awkward little weirdo possibly match a _perfect score_? And why the blatantly fake name? As if it could be coincidence, the exact same name and spelling as the pop idol.

No, no, something was wrong here and Light wanted to find out _now._

... Was he reading his speech off a _blank_ piece of paper??

Oh, no. This would not be tolerated. This would be puzzled out, dissected and analyzed with lab equipment.

--

Hm, the boy was even more interesting when he was mad. And he _was_ mad, however he tried to hide it.

When the suspect spoke, he was charismatic, charming and eloquent, everything L himself wasn't, but the detective didn't mind.

Because the boy wasn't just a boy now, he was a suspect. And there wasn't really any reason besides... how perfect he was. How the students were hanging onto his every word, and not hearing a single one of them because they'd already decided to agree.

L almost laughed when he realized he was the only one who saw past it to the pouting little child inside who was mad he had to share the stage. Distantly, he acknowledged that it also made him very uneasy how little they could see.

--

After the talks, Light was much more calm. It was still a mystery and it still irritated him, but he tried to put the feelings aside. After all, perhaps it would be a good change to have someone around with an IQ near his, no matter how different they were.

And now, as they talked about nothing in particular, Light's mind wandered and he felt his prior reaction fade and replace itself with sympathy.

Where his intellect had been celebrated to the point of being worshipped, perhaps 'Ryuuga's' had been more of a curse than a blessing in his eyes. For some odd reason, he wanted to know how this man grew up. Hm.

--

Now the boy had started talking, L was even more intrigued. His suspect was an incredible mimic, even feigning interest.

But was it feigning?

Now L wasn't sure, the boy was smiling gently as they spoke, and addressing and asking questions more personally.

Was this a ploy? Was he being deceived somehow?

Let's see.

As his little blond protoge would say, time to bring out the big guns.

--

I am L.

--

... Oh.

This man was L.

And he was Kira.

--

This boy was Kira.

And he was L.

--

Emotion continued in both of them, spiraling up and down hypnotically. The tennis match. The arguments. The calm quiet moments. The work. The suspicion. The kiss...

Yes, that happened too. What can you say, when you get used to the emotional high, it's hard to stop the need for it to escalate.

Escalate up...

The kiss.

... And up...

The moans.

... And up.

When kissing wasn't enough, they decided they needed more heat. More passion. And it was a game to see who could get who further to 'the point of no return'.

Their little code for 'caring'.

They never spoke about life outside the bed on those evenings. They didn't even talk. That is, until a night a few weeks after lips and teeth and hands roaming over heated skin became normal. They were panting, still entwined together as they shook, breathing the same precious boiling air. There was no surveillance here, there was no investigation, there was no death hanging over them.

There was only feeling, and they looked at each other, whispering.

"I knew you were L the moment I saw you."

"I know. I know you're Kira."

"I know. But no one else knows."

"No, they don't."

"So, now?"

"So... now, we wait."

Until everyone else catches up with us.


End file.
